Confessions of the Night
by Zein
Summary: What happens when, every night, you're haunted by regrets? What happens when you make moves to correct past mistakes? Where does it all lead to? Read to find out. Chapter 11 Up
1. Chapter 1

All I hear is the persistent ringing of the dial tone. For what seems like the hundredth time in an hour, I gently place the receiver back into its cradle, temporarily ending the civil war happening inside my head. It's been over for two years now. Two years and I still can't let you go. I often question whether or not my behavior is normal. Am I insane for thinking about you practically every second of the day, even though the last words uttered between us contained such venom? Even though the aforementioned argument took place such a long time ago?

A lot has changed over these two years. I've heard from mutual friends that you moved on. I hear she's perfect too. Blond hair, blue eyes, the type of girl you've been waiting for your whole life. She's caring, bright, and toothachingly sweet. Brains, looks, personality. I guess she's the full package, huh? I can only assume that she's everything I wasn't, that she can give you things I never could. That she's always there to pick up all of your pieces, no matter how many times you break.

However, despite how many times I am informed about her complete lack of flaw, I can't help but wonder if you still think about me when you lay your head down at night, or if you see a vision of me every time you close your eyes. After all, you did once tell me that I was the only girl that you couldn't picture yourself without. That no matter what happened between us, that I'd always have your heart in my hands. Such statements were often whispered into the night air, as if they were some secret that the stars would forever hold. These sentiments were made before the storm, before the shipwreck. Do you still hold these same feelings now that we've crashed and burned? Or were these merely fleeting thoughts meant to enhance the romantic mood, and then to be forgotten when the moment passed?

In my mind, there are a lot of questions, yet practically no answers. No matter how many times I ponder over the details of our now non-existent relationship, no matter how many facts I collect, no matter how hard I hope and pray for certain things, the truth is, I don't know where you're at in your life right now. I don't know if your happy with her. I can't predict that you'd be happier with me. I can't assume that the road would be smooth if we became an "us" again. Even if I called you up right now as I have been dying to do all night, I am in no way certain that you wouldn't hang up on me and tell me to never bother you again. Life holds only one thing as a guarantee: There are no guarantees.

Well, perhaps there are a few exceptions to that rule. What I feel for you has been guaranteed from the moment I first laid eyes on you. Regardless of whether or not I ever even cross your mind, there is no doubting that I am currently sitting over here, wide awake at 2AM, pining over you as I have done almost every night since we've been apart. Considering the gap between that time and the present, one could use inductive reasoning to conclude that the hours I've spent reliving my past and trying to regain some small part of it reaches numbers that stretch far beyond the range of pathetic.

Your like an addiction that I just can't shake. And that's a scary realization for me. I know that when I'm ninety years old, I'll look back on the four years that I spent with you as the best of my life. If I knew that I could call you right now and that you'd accept that with open arms, not even God Himself could stop me from dialing the ten digits that'll connect me to you. The truth is, I simply want to hear your voice. I'm not even looking for an ideal conversation where everything works itself out and the world becomes bright and sunny again. I just want to hear your voice for at least one last time, perhaps just to gain some closure on the issue of you and I. Maybe a small part of me wants to unload its guilt by hearing you say that this whole thing wasn't all my fault. That my own stupidity isn't the sole reason that I sit hear every night racking my brain over you. Perhaps then I'd be able to get some sleep without having to swallow a couple of pills to get me through the moonlight.

I pick up the phone for the 101st time and finally muster up the courage to dial the ten numbers that will make your cell phone vibrate on the night stand next to you. One... three... four... seven... six... nine... two... three... four... four... five. My fingers glide so smoothly over the numbers, so well rehearsed in the practice. One ring. Two rings. Three, then four. Just as I'm about to hang up the phone and silently thank God for letting my momentary stupidity go unrealized, my breath stops as I hear a groggy "Hello" from your end.

I pause for a few moments just to hear your breath as you patiently wait for a response. "Hello?" you repeat, although this time I can tell that you're slightly more alert as well as frustrated.

I relish a few more seconds of this before dropping the phone back into its cradle again. My head flies into my hands and I brush my hair back a little bit, as I silently scold myself for doing this again. For working myself up so much as to get to the point of no return, before backing out at the last possible moment. For interrupting you and your life for my own selfish reasons. For knowing that this is the farthest that I would ever get. Because no matter what, I'm still the same scared girl I was when you met me. I'm still the same insecure girl that pushed you away two years ago. That's never going to change. I'm never going to change. I wish that I could, because maybe things would be different, because maybe then I'd be happy with my life right now. But it's just not in the cards for me.

So I'll go on pretending that I got over you a long time ago. That I closed the book on you as soon as you walked out the door. That I meant it when I said "Goodbye." I'll imagine that the man lying sound asleep in my bed upstairs can hold a candle to you. That he has even one-third of your traits and characteristics that made me fall so madly in love with you all those years ago. I'll conceal the fact that my heart aches for you practically every second of the day. I'll silently hold on to the memories of us and deal with the invisible scars that you left. Because when I lost you, I lost it all.


	2. Chapter 2

"Baby, who was that?" she asks as she sleepily rolls over and rubs her eyes, the moonlight reflecting off of her flawless skin.

I brush a strand of her golden blond hair out of her eyes and softly kiss her temple. "Wrong number sweetheart. Go back to sleep," I comfort her as I carefully swing my legs over my side of the bed.

She rolls over generally unconcerned, groggily mumbling something about how I need to get my number changed. Were she any other woman, were she you, she might have suspected me of cheating a year ago, when the mysterious phone calls became routine. However, she wasn't like that. She had explicit trust in me, for I hadn't given her any reason to not have such faith in me. But, then again, I never gave you any reason not to either.

I silently stand up, and once she feels the absence of my weight making its impression upon the mattress, she inquires as to wear I'm going. I tell her that I'm making my way to the kitchen for a glass of water, and that I'll be back shortly. I hear her make a general sound of consent before her breathing pattern once again becomes shallow, letting me know that she has returned to her slumber.

Every night the same ritual occurs. Whether it's at 12AM or 2AM, without fail, I can expect that phone to ring, and expect you to hang up without a word. You don't think I know that its you calling me every night, as you don't realize that your name displays on my cells caller ID every time. You don't realize that your name and number have never left my phone book for even a second that we've been apart.

Every night I pick up, calmly at first, thinking that maybe tonight will be different and that maybe tonight you will divulge your reasons for calling. Then I grow frustrated, realizing that your playing the same old games that you always did. And then you hang up and she questions and I feel the same old sharp pangs in my chest that I've felt every night ever since I left you.

If you knew all this, you might accuse me of playing the same game as you are. You might wonder as to why I don't make the first move, as to why I don't quit the charade and admit that I know its you calling every night. Sometimes I wonder the same thing myself. Then I remember that you did this, that you're the reason we're in this situation in the first place.

I know you were young when we first met. I understand. Love was something new for you. You were scared at first, scared that I might let you down like so many others had in the past. You knew I had more experience in the field than you had, and that made you insecure. You thought you couldn't measure up to all the girls that I had previously dated. Little did you know that you surpassed them by leaps and bounds in my eyes

But you refused to see this. You refused to see that I loved you more than I had ever loved anyone else in my life. You didn't see the reality of the situation. You only saw the universe that you imagined in your head. The one where I would cheat on you with every girl I came across. In your mind, our relationship had crashed before it had even got a chance to leave the ground.

For these reasons I can't force myself to make the first move again. There is nothing to ensure me that you've changed. You're still playing games. You're still too scared to admit what you want from me. Still too immature and insecure to take any other action than to prank call me in the middle of the night. Because that's what this amount to. One big prank. Your calls serve no purpose other than to reopen old wounds, to remind me of something which I've tried so hard to forget.

Little do you know that if you just said something, anything, you'd have me in the palm of your hand. If you would just say that thoughts of me are what's keeping you up at night, I'd see that you were willing to be vulnerable where it concerns me. I'd know for sure that you were trying to be less scared, more open and more willing to give our relationship a fair shot. Then I'd tell you that you were my first thought upon waking up and my last thought before going to sleep. And every thought in between. I would tell you that it's been hell for me living without you for these two years. That she's nothing in comparison to you. That I'd been waiting for you to come to your senses, for you to finally admit that you need me just as much as I need you. That all I've wanted this whole time was just a small sign that you'd changed and that you were willing to put into our relationship half of the effort that I had previously exuded. If you would just say anything, I'd be yours again.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N - Thanks to all of those who reviewed. I decided to go along with your wishes and continue. I'm not sure it will be much longer than the originally intended two-shot, but there's at least this chapter and possibly one or two more. It all depends on whether or not the material comes to me. Well, enjoy! And please check out my other story, When the Whirlwind Comes.

I sat there by the bay window of my apartment, shivering and cold, my face wet with tears. I was surrounded by darkness, with only the tiniest bit of illumination coming from the sliver of moonshine that pierced through the thick glass. I wrapped the blanket around me tighter, trying to rid my body of the ever-present chill. The one that has consumed me without you. Deep down inside of me, I knew that only you would be able to cure such an ailment.

You see, ever since we broke up, there has been only one adjective that I'd use to describe myself: cold. He noticed it too. Perhaps that's why he had stormed out of here tonight, ranting and raving about how he couldn't be in a relationship with a shadow. Those were his actual words, for I wasn't a whole person without you. I was merely a ghost of who I used to be. And that was at best. Most of the time, I was dead altogether, mind, body, spirit.

I silently wondered how long I could continue like this. How long could I carry out this slow and torturous suicide? Every night I reached my arm up to pull myself back over the cliff, yet I dropped it before I made any contact. Why? Why couldn't I just say something, _anything_? Because I was scared, scared to death.

Although my existence was meaningless without you, I still held the smallest shred of hope that there might still be a chance for us. If I were to call you up and you were to reject me, to reject _us_, I couldn't bear it. That would be the point where my death would completely evolve from figurative to literal. Could I risk that?

I wiped the tears away from my eyes, clearing my vision slightly. Was I any better of like this, crying my eyes out over you every night? Look where it has gotten me so far. Alone. Noone could stand to be around me, and I couldn't blame them. I was a morbid, unhealthy individual.

God bless him. He had the patience of a saint. Had the situation been reversed I would have left a long time ago. He endured as much as he possibly could. A strong man. But no matter how I tried to contort him, he wasn't you. So he left. He finally realized that no one should have to go through the anguish of living with me in my current state. He left, and he took with him my last link to sanity.

The phone then caught my eye. Funny how it seemed to be the only object in the path of that lone stream of moonlight. It sat there, taunting me. My mind soon joined in, as I began to recall every memory I had of you and I. I simply rolled my eyes. I knew where this would lead, even before I began the process. Call, and hang up. Call, hang up. It was the same every night. And then I would mentally scold myself multiple times, adding to my psychological maladies.

Yet, there was some small part of me that insisted tonight could be different. After all, he was gone wasn't he? Nothing to hold me back. No guilt to loom over my head. Right now, I had hit rock bottom. I had noone in my life. If I could just muster up the courage to talk to you, and on some off chance you'd come back to me- well, then I'd be sitting on the top of the world again.

Tonight, punching the numbers in took longer than usual. I had to physically force myself to hit each digit with trembling hands. The tears were flowing one hundred times harder now, enough to fill the Grand Canyon. I didn't even hear the phone ring before your voice filtered through the speaker. "Hello?"

I was quiet. A silent sob escaped my throat. I had tried to choke it back, but I couldn't. I knew you heard it, because your voice was suddenly more eager, more alert.

"Hello?" you demanded, your voice filled with both concern and impatience. You could be so paradoxical sometimes.

My finger automatically traveled to the end button. Same outcome as every night. But I just couldn't bring myself to push it.

"Just _say_ something" you coaxed.

But what to say? I had come past the point of no return at this juncture, but how could I possibly put into words all that you needed to hear? My mind was blank. I closed my eyes, trying to stop the tears and all of the thoughts swimming through my head. I sniffled quietly and opened my mouth, determined to let some non-existent mystical force guide my words. Before I knew it I heard my own voice echoing through the empty apartment. A mere two words. "I'm sorry."


	4. Chapter 4

_I'm sorry._ Over and over again those words reverberated inside the walls of my head. The first and only two words I had heard from you in over two years. After uttering them, you quickly hung up and the only sound present to me was that of the dial tone. I stood frozen, sitting up in my bed, awed by the phone call that just took place. You spoke.

A thousand thoughts began to run through my head at once. Your words were ambiguous, and there were millions of meanings that they could have held. Were you sorry for the innumerable amount of phone calls that had taken place over the past few years? Were you sorry for the way that the relationship had ended? Or were you sorry that the relationship _had_ ended at all? One thing was for certain; you weren't giving me much to work with.

I had thought that everything would be so cut and clear once communication had picked up between us. That was far from the case. Instead, I was more confused. Where did I go from here? I knew that the ball was now in my court. You wouldn't be calling again out of fear that you might embarrass yourself. If I didn't respond to this, you would give up hope of there being an us ever again. You'd take it as rejection.

I looked over to my right, at her sleeping form. Her chest rose and fell gently. She really was the picture of beauty. We never had a problem, not once in our relationship. Sure, there were little tiffs here and there, after all, nobodies perfect. But nothing serious that would ever make us doubt this relationship. Could I really just throw that all away because of your two worded apology?

If I left her and came running back to you, that would be a huge risk. Considering how things went the first time, there was nothing to ensure me that we'd last. We could simply just get back into the same circle of verbal attacks, slamming doors and relationship hiatuses. I knew that I wouldn't be able to handle that, nor would I be able to handle you having insecurities about our relationship again. Then again, I could be talking this all wrong. What if you didn't want me back? What if all you were seeking was closure? Then I'd be running the risk of having my heart handed back to me in a million pieces.

I was safe where I was. I was in a comfortable relationship. _Comfortable_. I silently pondered over this. _Comfortable_. Yes, this was the word I would use to describe my current relationship. So what if comfortable brought along a connotation of boring. I'm still exhausted from all the "excitement" that I had gone through during our relationship. Okay, maybe there weren't the same sparks that I had with you, but there was a mutual attraction and deep feelings of... care. Not love. _Care_.

I sighed heavily unsure of what I was trying to convince myself. I loved you. From the moment I met you, I knew that you were the only one who would truly understand me, despite our age difference. We were two halves of the same person, you and I. Perhaps our similarities are why we butted heads so often. God knows we are two of the most stubborn people in the world. It's one of the things I loved most about you. She couldn't compare to you, both my head and my heart knew this. It wasn't her that was holding me back, it was me.

Could I let this pass without trying to reconcile with you? If I did, would I be kicking myself years down the road? I cradled my head in my hands, desperately trying to clear out the jumbled mess inside as she began to stir beside me. She sat up, rubbing sleep from her eyes. Sensing the difference in the atmosphere, she turned her face towards me, a concerned look in her eyes. Her hand found its way to my back, and she began to rub gently. "What's wrong?"

I sighed once again and turned to meet her gaze. Her feelings for me were obvious, and it was in that moment that I knew what I had to do. I reached over and tucked a strand of her soft blond hair behind her ear. "Baby," I began, trying to think of how to phrase my next few words. "We need to talk."


	5. Chapter 5

A/N - Okay! So it's been a little while since I have posted anything. Sorry, but I've been so swamped with school and work and everything else so... anyway.. here's a new chapter. It's a little bit shorter than the others. I'm going to try to slam out another chapter either tonight or tomorrow to make up for this. The next chapter is much clearer in my head, so it will hopefully be better than this one (I'll admit I'm not a fan of this chapter). This chapter was created mainly to maintain the alternating Tommy/Jude P.O.V's. I was originally going to have two Tommy P.O.V.'s in a row, but I decided against it. So here's a sort of filler chapter. Either way, please review and let me know what you guys think. Thanks so much!

Dust particles fluttered around me, seemingly trapped in the rays of sunlight that pierced through the gloomy room. I quietly let out two small coughs before reaching up and letting my hand blindly travel along the top shelf of my storage closet. _Where is it?_ My hand came into contact with boxes of numerous shapes and sizes. My hand finally reached its destination, settling on an old shoe box, slightly crinkled and ripped from many years of wear and tear. I pulled it towards me, grasping it against my chest as if it held some secret elixir that might grant me eternal youth. No, actually, this meant more to me.

I sat down on the hard wood floor Indian style, gently shaking the top off. Inside lay innumerable photos of us. I rummaged through the box, seeing ticket stubs from every show we ever attended together. Our entire relationship was inside this box. Memories of every holiday spent together, every date we ever went on. It was all here. My fingers touched a cold piece of metal, and I felt the tears well up in my eyes. I pulled out the diamond ring that laid at the bottom of the box and slipped it onto my finger for the first time in months. It was a promise ring that you had given me during the last few months of our relationship. We were having our problems, but it was supposed to be a sign of your faith in us. _We could work through this_. Your words echoed through my head until this day. God, I was so stupid.

It had been a week since I last called you, declaring my sorrow once and for all. After that, I knew that my nightly calls would end. I couldn't bear to hear your voice after that, to hear sympathy or even anger. I couldn't face the consequences that my actions might have. What else would you expect from me? Yep, that's me, Mrs. Runaway. Now I was truly about to live up to that title.

I looked around my apartment at the bare walls and stuffed boxes. I had to get out of this town. It was eating me alive. Every time I passed a place that we used to go, I felt like I might break down. It was too much for me to handle. If I stayed here any longer, the next time my name appeared in papers it would be followed by the news that I was placed in a mental institution. I couldn't subject myself to the torture anymore.

So many times I had tried to gain closure on us. How could I do that if I stayed in this town, so close to everything that invoked thoughts of you? How could I when I kept this box tucked away in my closet? To truly gain closure, I had to remove myself from the situation as much as possible. I had finally declared that this would be the time that I made a valiant effort to get over you. Not to forget you, because God knows I could never do that. I just wanted to be able to lead a healthy life, something that I hadn't done since we broke up. I didn't know if this goal could ever be attained, but I had to try my hardest, for my own sake.

I wiped my eyes and slid the ring off my finger. It had become a little big over the years, as a result of the malnutrition I had subjected myself to. I looked at it before placing it back inside the shoe box. I slipped the box back on the shelf. I was leaving, and this time, you wouldn't be coming with me.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N - Sorry about the lack of update but I've been a busy bee. The chapter is a little short, but I like it better than the last one. Anyway, hopefully you guys enjoy this chapter. Please, read & review? Please?

That night last week was rough. There had been a lot of screaming and crying. Not to mention a flying vase directed at my head. I suppose that I couldn't blame her for her reaction. I doubt any woman would react calmly to her boyfriend dumping her due to lingering feelings for his ex-girlfriend from years ago. She had told me that I had been stringing her along this whole time, playing with her emotions when I knew that there wasn't a shot in hell that I could ever feel the same. She was right. No matter how many years I had tried to deny it, my heart belonged to you. I was sorry that I had hurt her, but I couldn't lie anymore. To her, or to myself.

When I had made my decision, I felt like a huge weight had been lifted off of my shoulders. She left, and I was free to pursue a reunion with you. However, when I woke up to next morning, everything didn't seem so clear cut anymore. Maybe I had acted too hastily. Could we really make it work this time? Had anything really changed? My indecisiveness held my captive in my home, preventing me from making any moves to better our situation.

It seems my temporarily heart won out, as I sit in my Hummer outside of your house. This morning I had come to the conclusion that it was an absolute necessity for me to pursue this. To pursue us. However, it seems that my conscious had been down and not out, as I felt it begin to nag me again. I stared at your front door from within the confines of my car, then back down at my hands which now nervously wrung around one another. _What if she doesn't want you anymore?_ _What are you going to do then?_ I didn't have an answer for either of those two questions.

Shaking every doubt and regret out of my mind, I quickly climbed out of the Hummer, picking up pace with every step towards your door, in case my mind should begin its antics again. I must have raised my hand to knock at least a zillion times before I finally went through with the action. I held my breath nervously as I heard footsteps approaching the door. I almost wanted to laugh at the irony of the situation. Years ago, I remember you visibly tensing every time I walked into a room. You used to tease me that my old age and good looks intimidated you. You also used to say that nothing ever made me nervous, that I was too confident and cool for my own good. It was almost as if you didn't notice the way that _I_ froze when you entered the same space as me. You didn't know the effect that you had on me, that only _you_ made me nervous. As I stand at your door, my heart thumps so loudly in my chest that I swear your whole block could hear it. I feel a swell of emotions that I haven't felt in years. I feel alive again. And at this moment I know that I've made the right decision by coming here.

I'm snapped out of my trance when I here the jingling of chains behind the door and the twist of the doorknob. I silently exhale, realizing that I didn't want you to see me for the first time in years looking like a blue puffer fish. The door creaks open, and I am so anxious to see your face that I feel as if everything is happening in slow motion. I look down, bracing myself for the impact that the impending sight of you would have on me. When I become aware that the door is now fully opened, I raise my head cautiously, and I feel my heart drop down to my feet.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N - Yea... I'm not dead. Lol. Finals have been around and I've had to put some focus there. In addition, I've had the tiniest bit of writer's block. Hopefully, you'll all forgive me. Also, hopefully, this didn't turn out like crap. I would say that the format of this story kinda changed as well. As always, please review and let me know what you think. Without further ado...

New York City. They say it's the city of lights and dreams. They weren't kidding. Well, at least about the lights part. I felt as if I needed a pair of sunglasses the first time I explored 42nd Street at night. There was so much to see here, everything was so big and so busy. It was... overwhelming to say the least. No one could feel lonely in a place like this. No one... except for me.

It had been 3 months since I up and left Canada. You know how I am, go big or go home. When I decided to move, I knew deep down that I would carry myself far away from everything. Wasn't that the whole point of the endeavor? To get as far away from you as possible? To go somewhere that could completely help me to forget about everything I had ever known? Where else to go but to the city that never sleeps?

The brisk January air swept across my cheek, temporarily snapping me away from my thoughts of you. I jammed my hands into the pockets of my jeans and fell into a quick stride. I tucked my chin into the confines of my scarf, trying to embrace the warmth there. As luck would have it, my cell phone immediately rang in my pocket. I was convinced that fate just enjoyed hassling me for it's own entertainment. Removing my hands from the warm envelopes that my pockets created, I reached into my bag to stop the obtrusive noise. I could feel the frost bite coming on with each passing second.

"Hello?" I asked, becoming fascinated by to cloud of smoke leaving my mouth.

"How's the Big Apple treating my little sister?" Sadie asked, the tiniest hint of amusement evident in her voice.

I smiled. Despite our relationship over the years, Sadie had grown into the one person I could depend on the most. She was always there when I needed her. "You would have thought that Canada would have predisposed me to cold temperatures and have gotten me used to them. I'm out here freezing my ass off."

"Quit your complaining. It must really be something to be living in New York City. It's practically the center of the universe."

I thought of the lifestyle that Sadie liked to lead. The fashion, the parties, everything about New York practically screamed Sadie. She'd love it here. Was there something so wrong with me that I couldn't even be happy here. I sighed. "It isn't all it's cracked up to be."

Sadie snickered. "Yea okay. You're just lucky you have the money to live out there. If I could afford it, I'd have moved ages ago. Instead, I get to live in your old apartment."

I nodded, temporarily unaware that I was on the telephone and that Sadie couldn't see me. Okay, so I couldn't technically give up our place altogether. The thought of some stranger occupying all the spaces we had.. I shook my head. I couldn't let that happen. At least I could go back and visit as long as Sadie lived there. Pay tribute to us, to our history if I ever felt strong enough to do so without breaking down.

"Jude.." Sadie began, a welcome interruption to thoughts of you. Why was it so hard to leave you behind, just as I had everything else?

"Yea?"

"Being out there.. Has it helped? I mean, at first you sounded as if you were getting back to your old self again, as if you were finally happy. But know, I feel like disappointment is setting in."

I sighed. "Sadie... it's just... I'm lonely. Even here. During Christmas time, watching the couples here... it just made me think of him even more. I thought that being out here would help me to forget about him... but it hasn't." I stopped, not knowing exactly how to describe what I was feeling.

I heard silence on the other end, as if Sadie were contemplating something. I knew that she no longer harbored feelings of jealousy, as she once told me during the start of our relationship that we were "meant to be." She finally spoke after a few minutes. "Jude, I need to tell you something."

That sounded alarmingly close to the way a confession would start off. I braced myself for something big, sensing that such was the case due to the tone of Sadie's voice. "What is it Sadie?"

"Tommy... he came by to see you about two months ago."

And as busy as New York was, in that moment, I could swear the city around me stopped.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N - So, I've had a little more time lately the past few days.. So you guys get a new chapter right away :-).This chapter gets a little bit angsty (maybe even a bit cliche), I guess it's just something I've had in me later. I actually really liked the way that this turned out, although it's a tad short. Anyway, thanks to everyone who is reviewing this story. I really appreciate it. Keep it up! And to those of you who aren't... please review? Pretty please with a cherry on top?

It's too late for us. I have to come to grips with that, something I'm currently having trouble doing, as I'm sitting here with a glass of bourbon in my right hand. You used to hate it when I drank. It's not that I was an abusive or mean-spirited drunk, it's just that you knew that I only drank when I was depressed about something. Rather than try to drown my pain at the bottom of the bottle, you always tried to coax me into talking my problems out with you instead. But now, you're nowhere to be found, and that option is dead to me. What would you suggest I do now?

I didn't expect to break the way I did when Sadie told me you had moved to New York two months ago. I had considered the possibility that you might not have wanted to be with me at this stage in your life, but the thought of you being so far away hadn't even entered my mind. Something about your big move sounded so.. Final. It was as if you had closed the chapter on us once and for all.

That's when my downward spiral had begun. I figured that it wasn't worth calling you. If you could move so far away from home, so far away from me... who was I to try and drag you back into the past? But then again, I was handling life fine without you, until you continuously called and dragged me back into the past. You opened up my thoughts and made me consider the possibility of us again. You gave me hope and then you snatched it away. Tell me Jude, what right did you have?

I'm angry to say the least. I can't help but to blame my current situation on you. Something comes over me, something that is enough to make me slide my arm across my dark oak table, causing both my glass and bottle of bourbon to violently shatter on the marble floor. I look down at the shards of glass, and I can't help but to think that the glass is almost as badly broken as I am.

Getting up from my dining room table I stumble over the broken pieces, cursing as my bare foot comes into contact with the stray glass shard. I hobble into the living room, where I pick the glass intrusion out of my foot, before totally disregarding whatever bleeding wound it has created. I slouch on the couch, grabbing the remote to turn on whatever hockey game I could find.

When your image was the first to flood my television screen, I quickly decide that God is playing a really messed up game with me and I shut it off before harshly chucking the remote through the glass front of the television unit. So much for me not being an abusive drunk. My temper continues to get the best of me, as I make my way throughout my apartment, turning over every piece of furniture I own. When I've run out of objects to destroy, I make my way back to the living room and throw my worn out body onto the cool leather couch.

I pinch the area between my eyes, trying to regain some sense of my sober self. When I feel a bit more collected, I lift my head slowly to see the damage I have caused. My apartment looks worse than it might have had a tornado hit. I toss my head back onto the arm of the couch, a loud thud echoing throughout my apartment. I rub the back of my head with whatever strength I could muster, before finally relenting to the dull ache that was triggered.

I stare up at the ceiling. This is what my life has become without you. This is what your actions have turned me into. My vision begins to blur, but I refuse to shed a tear over this. I'm going to be man about this, damn it! A lonely, drunk, ill-tempered, uncontrollable man... but a man nonetheless. This is my last thought before I am finally overtaken by total blackness.


	9. Chapter 9

Stepping into the confines of the apartment building, I gently shake my head back and forth, ridding my blond locks of the tiny snowflakes that had fell from the night sky. Passing a mirror in the lobby, I take in my reflection. Rosy cheeks, slightly tangled and frizzed hair... _Boy, am I a vision or what?_ I frantically run my hands through my hair, trying to make it look decent, but to no avail. I let out a sigh of frustration at the uncooperative mess sitting on top of my head. _Stupid Canadian weather._

I was home. After Sadie finally leaked the news of your prior visit, I tore into her for keeping such an important fact from me. She apologized profusely, insisting that she was only trying to do what was best for me. She didn't want to see me get roped back into the idea of us, only to be let down. She knew what that would do to me. After a week of all but ignoring her calls, I finally saw things from her point of view, and became willing to forgive and forget. But her revelation had changed everything.

Knowing that you came to my apartment willing to take another chance on us made it impossible for me to stay in New York. That's not to say that I didn't try. For the aforementioned week I moped around my apartment in the city, wondering whether or not it was best to give up on the situation. I knew you would be angry with me for leaving so shortly after I had reopened old wounds. Perhaps my bold move didn't sit well with you. Perhaps it was the straw to break the camels back and make you give up on me once and for all.

However, I couldn't let all my negative thinking ruin things for us. Not again. If you were willing to take chances and go the distance, I had to be. As soon as I had come to this conclusion, I hopped on the first flight from JFK to Toronto. Breathing in the crisp Toronto air as I climbed off of the plane, I instantaneously knew that I had made the right decision. There was something in the air that felt right. Something that told me that things would pan out this time.

Realizing that I hadn't moved from in front of the mirror as I contemplated all of this, I quickly took strides towards the elevator. It had taken me over two years to finally find the courage to confront you face to face. I knew that the longer I stood around thinking, the more likely the chance that I would dart out of the lobby and hide away for another few years. It was now or never.

The elevator ride from the lobby to the floor of your penthouse seems to take an eternity. I bounce my leg up and down as I silently count the floors. One...two...twelve...eighteen. Of course, it seems that there are people entering and exiting the elevator on every floor. I huff, silently cursing myself for not running up the twenty flights of stairs. At this point, I'm beginning to think that would have been quicker.

My breath catches in my throat as I see the number twenty illuminated above the elevator door. Twenty. This is your floor. I stand in the elevator for a moment, only to be snapped out of my daze when I realize that the doors or beginning to close again. I quickly yell out for someone to hold the door, as I make my way through the people in the crowded elevator. I step off, silently thanking God that I didn't miss the floor. I would have had to spend another eternity in that elevator before reaching your floor again.

My eyes seem to run over your door frame for twenty minutes. _Raise your hand and knock. C'mon.. This isn't a hard concept... raise ... knock. Raise, knock._ Finally taking my own instruction, I repeat this action several times. I wait as patiently as I can, before realizing that there are no footsteps coming from inside your apartment. My hand finds its way to my hip, as I ponder over my next course of action. _Breaking and entering?_ I reach out to your doorknob, surprised when it turns with my hand. Once we were back on good terms, I'd have to talk to you about that. Living in New York had made me all too aware of the dangers of leaving your door unlocked. People couldn't be trusted. I was the perfect example of that.

I hear my own sharp intake of breath in your seemingly empty apartment. Closing the door behind me, I survey the living room, seeing nothing but utter chaos. Glass is shattered, tables overturned. I panic as millions of possibilities run though my head. _Did someone break in? _Seeing as how everything valuable seems to have remained in the apartment, I quickly rule this out. My next concern is about your well-being. _Maybe some crazed fan got in?_

In a rush to observe the state of the rest of the rooms, I carefully step over objects strewn all over the floor and make my way into the dining room. It is in the same state as the living room was, but something new catches my eye. The doors to your liquor cabinet are wide open. The bottles contained within it are all empty. This concerns me, as I know that you always keep the liquor cabinet full in case of company. I immediately know that you have taken up drinking as a daytime hobby. Either that, or you've been the host of some wickedly wild parties the past few nights.

I see the same destruction in room after room, before I finally reach your bedroom. The door is closed, and I am almost scared to see what awaits my vision on the other side. I suck it up and gently push the door open. It doesn't matter what else is in the room, because all I can see is you passed out on your side of the bed. I smile slightly thinking of the fact that you still slept as if I were there next to you. As I step further into your room, a smell of hard liquor surrounds me, and my smile fades. I glance down at your face, seemingly angelic although I know your fighting demons within. I reach a hand out to you, brushing your hair off of your forehead. My eyes begin to tear once I take in your disheveled state, and I can't help but to think that I caused all of this. I lean over and kiss your forehead, vowing to do everything in my power to correct any wrongs that I had made. I could only pray that God would help me.


	10. Chapter 10

_Throb. Pound. Throb._ I squint my eyes open only to be met with a seemingly endless array of sunshine. Muttering to myself, I stumble out of bed pulling the navy blue curtains shut. _I could have swore those were shut._ _Throb. Pound. Throb. _My head feels like it's about to explode. Tallying up the pros and cons of my recent alcoholism, I decide that I can overlook the monstrous headaches that come with my frequent hangovers. I make my way into the bathroom and splash some cold water on my face. Pulling the white towel down, I dry my face before resolving to completely wipe out the remaining contents of my liquor cabinet during the course of the day.

Stepping out of the bathroom, I am slightly more aware, my eyes now able to fully function. I look around to see every liquor bottle removed, the bottle deposit around my bed now non-existent. _Kwest._ I shake my head, immediately becoming angered. I had repeatedly told Kwest that I didn't want him interfering in my life, in my state of depression. But that didn't stop him. _You've got to start locking that door Quincy._

Swinging my bedroom door open, I hear the sound of a vacuum cleaner coming from the living room. _THROB. POUND. THROB. _I shut my eyes and cover my ears slightly, looking to block out the unwelcome intrusion. By the will of God, the vacuum cleaner shuts of, and I continue my journey throughout the house. Almost instinctively, I stop in the dining room, making my way over to the liquor cabinet. Tossing the doors open, I feel my blood boil at the sight of the bare and empty shelves. _This does it. Kwest has gone too far._

My heavy stomps echo inside my head, only provoking my headache further. _Throb. Throb. Throb. POUND. Throb. Throb Throb. _I must sound like Godzilla walking through the penthouse. My voice comes out in a bellow before I even reach the living room.

"Kwest! How many times do I have to tell you to just stay out of my business! Leave me the hell alone!" I turn into the doorframe of the living room, ready to chew him up some more. I almost feel my drawer drop when you come into view.

"You.. You're.. not Kwest.." I practically stutter. I close my eyes briefly, almost convinced that my mind is playing tricks on me. _Maybe I'm still drunk_. However, you're still there once I open my eyes. This is no trick, no hallucination. You're really here.

I feel my eyes scan over you almost a hundred times. You look a lot skinnier than I remember you being. Your eyes are dull and bloodshot, the shine and sparkle now invisible. You have bags under your eyes, giving me the impression that you haven't slept in months. You look older, more frail. It almost looks as if these past two years have been as hard on you as they have on me. My eyes travel up to meet yours. None of this matters though. To me, you still look beautiful.

Breaking me out of my trance, I see you open your mouth to say something, before you close it again. Knowing you, I know that you haven't thought things out this far. You didn't run your speech through your head before I woke up. You were acting on impulse. I see you open your mouth again, and I have to strain my ears in order to hear what you're saying.

"No. Not Kwest. And you, you're not dead" you say, smiling slightly, trying to make light of the situation. You never could be serious when I really needed you to be.

I see you looking at me, waiting for a reaction. One which I fail to give.

"I was starting to wonder when you didn't wake up after all the noise I had made."

Once again, no reaction._ Stone face Quincy._

You clear your throat and look down. You're unsure of your next move. Well, that makes two of us.

"What are you doing here?" My voice comes out much harsher than I had intended. I couldn't help myself. I'm still angry with you. Your presence here does little to alleviate the pain you've caused me throughout the past four years. Just when I had thought you'd changed, you ran away. Again. You ran away from me, from us, from every hardship in you're life. Yes, you were here now. The question was, how long would you stay?

After a brief pause, I see a look of hurt register on your face. I feel a twinge of guilt before I brush the feeling away completely. I look at you, fully expecting an answer.

"I.. Tommy.. I.." You're at a loss for words. I see you struggle as you ponder over you're next move. As a result of my recent alcohol abuse, my brain seems to take longer than usual to process events. In an instant, I feel your arms around me, your face buried into my chest. I feel your tears slowly seep into the white cotton of my T-shirt. It takes every once of strength that I have left in my body not to wrap my arms around you and tell you that everything is going to be okay. That we're going to be okay. That we're going to be an us again. I glance down at the top of your head, ready to run my fingers through the mass of blond waves, ready to kiss away your troubles. Instead, I reach behind me and pull your arms off of me, my hands locked around your wrists. I look into you're dull blue eyes, and release you once your arms are a good distance away from me. I feel my voice crack as I begin to speak, and I temporarily stop to swallow the lump in my throat.

"Leave. Now." I order before I turn back around to head into my bedroom. This is all too much for me to take right now.

"Tommy... Stop.. Let me talk to you." I hear you choke out through your tears.

My heart breaks slightly as I hear the pain in your voice. I turn to face you once again. I shake my head before responding. "I'm done talking Jude. You find it so easy to walk away all the time? Now it's my turn."

And I do just that. I make it all the way to my bedroom this time, and I proceed to slam the door shut. I close my eyes and toss myself back on my head. I can't help but to think of how numb I've become. At this point in time, I feel nothing. Nothing except the persistent ache of my head. _Throb. Pound. Throb._


	11. Chapter 11

A/N - Sorry for the lack of updates. Hectic life write now, plus major writer's block. Sorry the chapters so short, but its sort of a transition chapter. This stories almost coming to an end, but look for a new one soon after this one meets its demise. Lastly, read and review. It's my incentive.

_You find it so easy to walk away? Now it's my turn._ I stood stranded in your empty living room, nothing but those words left to haunt me. This didn't go as easily as I had wished it would. I silently scolded myself for being so naive and hopeful. What did I expect? Did I honestly expect that you would forgive and forget so quickly? No. I had hoped you would though. Did I actually think that I'd be sleeping in your arms by nightfall? No. If our roles were reversed, I sure as hell wouldn't let you waltz right back into my life.

I had to face the facts. I practically drove you to become an alcoholic. Granted, I didn't physically raise the bottle to your lips everytime you drank, but I was a huge part of the mental anguish that drove you along that path. You had every right in the world to want to push me and my negative influence as far away from you as possible. You thought that you could keep yourself protected if you pushed me away. You figured that you wouldn't be hurt again if you kept me at a distance. You were running away from the situation, just as I had done time and time again. _Now it's my turn._

I began to grab my jacket, about to turn and walk out on you once more. However, once I began to go over the thoughts in my head, I realized that I couldn't let you make the same mistakes as I did. I had been scared, and when I tried to run away from you, it just led us both right into the waiting arms of misery. Being without each other any longer would turn us both into living wastes of space. My soul was dead without you, and I knew yours was the same.

This revelation now apparent to me, I quickly spun around on my heel and briskly walked towards your room. I couldn't let this go without a fight. I had to prove to you that I could put the effort in, that I was in this for the long haul. No matter how long it took, I was determined to make you and I an us again. And this time, I was determined to make us last.

Barging into your room, I ignored the look of annoyance and impatience plastered on your face. I saw you open your mouth to say something, but I cut you off immediately. I wasn't going to give you a chance to deter me from my mission. "No Tommy. I won't leave. I can't. You were always ready to fight for us. Now it's my turn."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12 (Tommy's POV)

"You were always ready to fight for us. Now it's my turn." I looked at you, an overwhelming number of emotions running through me. This certainly was something new. Usually the roles were reversed in this game we had played for far too long.

"What's different this time Jude?" I questioned. Why were you so ready to put in the effort now. How could I be sure that this wasn't some temporary lapse in judgement on your part, and that you wouldn't be running for the hills come the next morning.

"Tommy, look at us. We're miserable without each other. I can't live normally without you. You're like my other half. I haven't eaten or slept right in the two years that we've been apart. And I don't believe that I'm going out on a limb by saying that you're not doing much better without me." You finished, hands on hips, a determined look on your face.

I sat in silence. There was no use in denying that I was currently living on the brink of hell. But a small part of me couldn't help but to think that I wouldn't be there if I had never met you in the first place.

"You did this to me, Jude! With your constant pushing me away. I can't deal with that anymore! Everytime I get my hopes up that we could just live happily, you run and I'm left with nothing but memories and a broken heart! I can't let you back in, because you never let me in to your heart in the first place! No matter how much I try to break through your walls, you build them back up!"  
You hung your head low, tears coming to your eyes. "I'm done running Tommy. I can't deal with being without you anymore. You're my other half. Running from you is like running away from myself. By running and being apart from you, I'm only hurting the both of us. And if you repeat my past mistakes right now, you'd only be doing the same."  
I rubbed my eyes harshly, a loud sigh escaping my lips. I looked back up at you, through only slightly blurred vision. "I can't let you back in Jude. Not if there's even the slightest chance you might leave again. If it's us again, it's got to be us forever. Because if you were to leave again, I wouldn't be able to cope. You've got to be sure this time."

"I'm sure Tommy. I've never been so sure of anything in my entire life. From the day I met you when I was 15, I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. It was never you I was unsure of Tommy. I was unsure of myself. I never thought I was good enough for you, and I was always amazed by the potential you saw in me. I couldn't believe that you could love me so much. When I used to accuse you of cheating and being unfaithful, I wouldn't have blamed you, because I just thought you deserved so much better than me." You explained, tentatively sitting next to me on the edge of the bed.

Instinctively, my hands reached over to grab the sides of your face, and my lips met yours in a kiss that was 2 years overdue. All the passion and love that was pent up inside of us now temporarily released, I pulled away, leaning my forehead on yours. "You're the only thing I've ever wanted. Don't ever doubt that. Not even for a second."

A small smile played on your lips as your eyes met mine. My thumb ran over the side of your cheek, and I saw a contemplative look cross your features. I looked at you inquisitively, silently urging you to speak your mind. It was time for everything to come out into the open now. However, what was about to come out of your mouth next would severely shock me.

"Marry me Tommy?" Your request caught me off guard, and I looked into your eyes trying to judge how serious you were. I was surprised to see no hint of unsettlement, no nervousness, no playfulness. As much as your request had thrown me for a loop, my answer would jolt me even more.  
"With pleasure."


End file.
